


Jimmy

by purpleeyestelllies



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dominance, Fighting, Flashbacks, Frottage, Handcuffs, It's the same Steve mostly, Kink Negotiation, Leather, M/M, Spanking, Sparring, Ugh idk what this even is, but a different "Bucky"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 04:21:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11798265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleeyestelllies/pseuds/purpleeyestelllies
Summary: Steve finally goes to a professional to determine if his fantasies are reality, if he can let go of the past and embrace the future. Little did he know, his past would slap him in the face. Literally.





	Jimmy

**Author's Note:**

> Idk what this even is if I'm honest. It stemmed from a late night of insomnia. Which we all know brings out the good stuff, right?

Steve eyed the office with obvious caution. The lady behind the desk looked as if she worked for Chase Bank or Bloomingdales. The walls were a pleasant mauve color and the chairs were comfortable. Somehow, not was Steve expected. He was sitting, hunched over a lap of forms, trying to take up as little space as possible in hopes that he'd just shrivel up and disappear. He looked at the paper on his lap.

_History with BDSM_

As in his? Uh...he let that guy spank him once. Literally once. One spanking and the guy said, no thanks, he didn't want to do that again. Steve didn't think that counted. Honestly, most of his experience was in his head.

He wrote "none".

_Expectations for this session_

Well, hopefully, if this went like he thought it might, this session would explain years of dirty dreams and a complete lack of a normal sex life.

He wrote "exploring".

He flipped the page to a very long, intimidating list of very dirty things. The instructions at the top told him to check _yes_ , _no_ , or _maybe_ by each item.

**Ageplay**  
**Bondage**  
**Breathplay**  
**CBT**  
**Caning**

Steve slapped a hand over the list and inhaled shakily. _Jesus Christ, what was he doing here?_

"Sir? Are you alright?" That was the Waldorf's lady speaking. Steve didn't look up.

"Fine. I'm fine," he assured.

"If you need help with any of the forms, I'd be glad to assist."

Steve waved her off. "No, thanks."

He checked a hard no next to ageplay, he already got enough jokes about looking young for his age. His actual age was joke enough. He bucked up the courage to put his first yes next to bondage. Breathplay he assumed was something unsafe to do with breathing. He checked maybe next to it, if only because he could hold his breath for a ridiculous amount of time.

CBT? Cognitive Behavioral Therapy? That couldn't be right. He didn't come here to be brainwashed. He looked up at the "helpful" lady and back at the list. What if CBT was something great? Like Coming Blisfully Together.

Okay, maybe not.

He huffed and stood up. He'd picked- or, well, Nat picked- this place for its discretion and NDA's, but he still didn't want this young, beautiful woman thinking about Captain America in a place like this. Steve approached the desk and held out the list.

"What does," he pointed right at it, "that one mean?"

The lady only smiled a calm smile and chirped, "cock and ball torture, sir."

"Oh, my God." Steve gaped at the three inconuous letters in black and white below him and stumbled back a step.

"You can always check no, sir."

Wanting to check no wasn't the problem. Wanting to check yes was. "Thank you," he croaked and sat back down. He quickly put some sort of marking down at yes by that one and moved on.

Half an hour later, he was all done, and half hard. Great. He took few minutes thinking about Peggy, dying in a cold hospital bed. He flagged quickly. To be fair, he might have to think of her, at a much younger age in a tight dress, later to get the blood flowing.

Or Bucky. He could always think of Bucky. At any age really. Sixteen and pinning Steve to the bed at his parent's place. Eighteen and pinning him to the wall of a seedy club. Twenty-one and pinning him to the bed they shared in their apartment. Twenty-five and pinning him to the mat in his tent.

No. This was meant to help Steve move on from his past, accept his life in this new day and age. Steve spent another few minutes calming down before hurriedly depositing the clipboard on the desk and turning back to his seat. He fiddled with his fingers in his lap and tried not to think about how long it'd been since he'd seen Bucky, since he'd touched his skin. They gave up on the hunt just a couple months after they'd both disappeared, apparently, but Steve had always held out hope that Bucky had lived a long, full life. He didn't know how he knew; he just knew.

"Mr. Rogers?" Steve's head popped up and he walked up to the desk. "We've found you a match, Mr. Rogers. The car will take you to their room for your session."

"A car. Right."

"Down the hallway. Walk out the door at the end and a car will be waiting to escort you."

If nothing else, at least he could defend himself these days. He thanked her and walked down the hall. When he opened the door, sure enough a small black town car was waiting for him. Inside was a glass of champagne in the holder on the wall and soft music playing from the speakers. He wasn't allowed to know where they were taking him. For the safety of the doms they employed.

All he could do was flick lint off his jeans for the six minutes and forty-three seconds it took to get to wherever he was. He didn't try too hard to figure it out. This guy deserved his privacy. When the driver opened the door they were in a parking garage, pulled up to an open elevator.

Steve got out and pointed at the waiting lift. "Do I just..."

"Seventh floor. Room 704. Go right in, he'll be expecting you."

"Okay," he allowed wearily. "Thank you." He walked halfway to the elevator and turned around. "I forgot. Am I supposed to tip you?"

"No, sir. Enjoy your evening." The car pulled away as Steve stepped inside the elevator and pressed the button with a frosted 7 on it. The entire ride up, Steve was nervously straightening his t-shirt and smoothing back his hair. He was nervous before, but now he was shaking. His lungs wouldn't fill up properly and he instinctively reached for his inhaler, even after all these years.

When the door dinged open, and the absolute silence of the hallway hit him, he felt a strange sense of calm wash over him. No one knew he was here- except Nat- and he was about to finally find out if he really was as fucked up as he dreamed he was.

He walked down until he was faced with a gold plated 704 on a dark, wooden door. He raised his fist to knock and then remembered the driver's instructions to go on in. He swallowed down his fear and turned the knob. It opened with an imperceptible click.

Steve walked in with even, silent footsteps, closing the door behind him. The room was open and bright, even more disarming than the office he'd come from. The floors looked like wood, but Steve felt the spring of synthetic flooring under his feet, more forgiving than wood. Easier on the knees, he thought with a blush.

There were two large maroon couches, both leather, positioned around a coffee table with a pattern of intertwining metalwork for a frame. Metal beams were running across the ceiling, and a couple stood upright throughout the room. Altogether a comfortable, modern home. "Hello? I hope I'm not barging in-"

"Sit on the couch and wait."

Steve blinked in surprise but did as he was told. He had just sat down when a man with long, dark hair hanging down over his face walked in, flipping through what must have been Steve's faxed papers.

"Mr. Rogers," the man said in a suppressed Russian accent.

"Steve, please."

"Steve, then. I see you are new to the scene. That's good for me. I like to explore new ones."

Steve just nodded and looked down the profile of the man's body. Strong shoulders, beautiful curve that led into a beautiful-

"Steve? Were you listening?"

No, he wasn't. He was too busy thinking this guy was exactly his type. Down to the way he tapped his long fingers on the back of the pages. He lifted his eyes back up from the man's firm thighs to apologize only to be greeted with the face he knew better than anyone else's.

He shot up from his seat. "Bucky? How...It's you. Oh, my God!" He rushed forward but Bucky's arm reached out and stopped him abruptly.

"We have not met, Mr. Rogers. If you'd like to role play, that's something we discuss before we start."

Steve flailed his arms. "What? No, I don't want...I mean, maybe- no! Bucky, it's me, Steve."

"I don't know a Bucky. What kind of name is Bucky?"

"Buck, seriously, stop. You're Bucky. My best friend. My-" He put that train of thought aside. "You're from Brooklyn. Your mom helped raise me. I know where you used to keep your emergency cash."

"Look, if it will help," Bucky lowered his arm, "I can be from Brooklyn." And just like that the accent Steve had heard every day of his young life was there. "But we need to hash this out before we get started."

"No, we need to talk about where the hell you've been all this time."

Bucky actually looked sad for a moment. "Look, Steve." The accent was still right on. "I'm not your friend Bucky, but I can be for tonight. Is that alright?"

Steve moved his mouth but nothing came out. He looked so much like Bucky. The same bright eyes. The same dimpled cheek. But was it? How could it be? Maybe he wasn't remembering correctly. It'd been eighty-ish years since he'd seen him.

"Yeah, okay."

"Good. Now why don't you tell me a little about Bucky," Not Bucky offered as he led them both back to the couch.

"He was my best friend." Not Bucky hummed. "He was the greatest guy I ever knew. Sergeant in the Army. Saved my ass more times than I could count." Steve felt the words tumble without thinking about them. "He'd pretend to fuss about it, and then, when we were alone, he'd..."

Not Bucky nodded. "I think I understand. Now, since this is your first time, why don't we pick one or two basic things to try."

"Um, okay." Not Bucky just looked at him. Not Bucky? That didn't seem right. "I can call you Bucky, right?" He felt like an idiot for asking, but if this was an opportunity, he wasn't wasting it.

"Sure thing, pal."

Steve visibly paled and exhaled what little breath was left in him. "Right. Okay."

"Top two things, Steve." Steve couldn't think straight. Couldn't comprehend. He didn't know how. A sharp yank on the back of his head brought him back to the present. "You're in your head too much," Bucky warned. "Tell me, now. Two things." Bucky snapped his fingers.

"God, uh, handcuffs and- darn, spanking?"

Bucky released him. "Very good. Nice choices." Steve sighed in relief at that.

"If I said CBT instead, would you say yes?" Steve wondered.

Bucky pursed his lips in thought. "Brave choice, but no. Not tonight. Next time, maybe."

"Next time?"

"If you want."

Steve nodded absently. "Yeah, next time." A chance to see Bucky's doppelganger again? Hell, yes.

"For now. I'd like you to take your pants and shirt off. Leave your underwear on." Bucky stood and disappeared around the corner. Steve heard another door snick open as he stood up and unbuttoned his jeans. "You have a safeword?"

Honestly, it was going to be "Bucky", but he clearly couldn't use that now. "Not really."

Bucky came back around the corner with a pair of padded leather cuffs and some attachments. "You have to have one."

"I did- never mind. How about..." He needed something that would instantly kill the mood, guaranteed. Steve smiled slyly. "Fury."

"Fury. Like very angry? Is that a metaphor for something?"

"Nope. Very angry is actually the perfect literal translation."

Bucky smiled, a tilt of his lips that had Steve's mind flashing back to school and Bucky tossing a ball between his hands with that same smile and a teasing, _"Come on, Stevie. Take it already."_

"Works for me. Fury it is." Bucky pointed a finger at Steve's half undone jeans and started messing with the handcuffs. Steve got back to what he was doing, faster than before. "Your safeword is Fury. Mine is Soldat. Don't be afraid to use it; I won't be. If anything feels wrong, hurts more than you're willing to hurt, gives you anxiety, flashbacks, or otherwise makes you feel weird, word out."

Bucky lifted his head to check on Steve, finding his jeans and t-shirt neatly folded on the couch behind him. "Good. Come here." He went back to his leather. "On the other side of the coin. Trust me. It's a lot to ask, I know, but I'm here to take care of you. That's literally my job. Trust me to understand your limits, and to check to make sure I haven't crossed them accidentally." He flicked his eyes up. "Which I will. Often."

Steve was gnawing on his lip, an old habit from before the serum. Bucky reached up and pulled it from his mouth, looking into his eyes. "I've got you. Okay?" Steve nodded firmly. "I need verbals for now."

"Oh, uh, yes."

"Good. Kneel."

It took a few long moments for Steve to understand before he dropped gracelessly to his knees. "I'd also like to warn you that my pain tolerance is high. Not abnormally so. I mean, I still feel pain- trust me- but you might have to go harder than you think," Steve informed the professional.

"Why don't you let me decide that." Steve shut his mouth and nodded. Bucky held out the contraption he'd set up, a harness of some sort, with a grin. "Arms up." Steve put his arms in the air and let Bucky slide them through two of the large sections. After a few tugs on buckles here and there, it fit perfectly against his shoulders and chest and back. There was a ring in the middle on his front and one on the back, if he felt correctly.

Then Bucky held out his right hand wordlessly and Steve lifted his left hand to rest in it. Bucky slid the leather cuff around his wrist and tightened it. "Too tight?" Steve shook his head. "Verbals, Steve."

"No. It's-" Good? Great? Steve clenched his fist and felt the cuff rub. Perfect? "Fine."

Bucky slid the other one on and then told Steve to hold his hand together like he was praying. Steve did, palm to palm, fingers straight. Like his mom taught him. Steve didn't want to know what his poor ma would say if she could see him now. Steve raised his hand to cover his face and jolted when he couldn't. He looked down and saw his cuffs linked with a thick metal piece to the ring on his chest.

"It's a little more than handcuffs, I know, but I figured you could handle it," Bucky informed him proudly. "Stand up." Steve followed the order more quickly that time. "I'll be asking your state of mind a lot. Just a simple yes or no will do. Don't speak unless asked a direct question. Unless it's my name. I love hearing you say my name, Steve."

Steve stared, wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the man that looked so much like the man he needed. The one that just said what he wished he could hear Bucky say one more time. The role play had started, apparently. "I love saying it."

Bucky landed a solid backhand against Steve's stomach, making Steve inhale in surprise more than pain. "Don't speak unless asked a direct question." Steve nodded. Bucky wrapped his fingers around the center of Steve's harness and pulled, making Steve follow him. Steve felt a little ridiculous with his hand chained to his chest, stumbling like a lost kid in a mall. Bucky stopped them at a beam on the far side of the room near the large curtained windows. "Lean on it," Bucky ordered, and Steve did.

He leaned forward until his hands and right shoulder rested against the solid metal, cold to the touch. After a long silent minute of him facing the thick curtains and waiting, Steve lifted his head to peek over his shoulder. The light was on in the closet again, but he couldn't see it directly. Steve let his head fall. Soon enough, he heard whisper-light footsteps pad across the floor.

"Have you ever been spanked, Steve?"

Steve shifted his hips, ignoring that visual for now to think. There was that one time, but like he said, he wasn't counting that. Besides that and his mom wailing on him that time he took their grocery money to buy a comic when he was seven, he hadn't. "No."

"Then I'll start off slow. A warm up." A cool, smooth piece of something slid up his back and down to his ass. Bucky rubbed what had to be the paddle in deep, soothing circles across his ass cheeks. "Ready?"

Steve closed his eyes and inhaled shallowly. He would know in about two seconds if this was really who he was. "Yes."

The strike was still somehow unexpected. Not hard at all. Especially for Steve. Honestly it was more like a slap on the wrist. But the reasoning of it. The purpose. Bucky had spanked him. Steve let his mouth drop open on a silent moan. This was definitely who he was. "Bucky," he sighed.

"Good?"

Steve huffed a laugh. "Yes."

Another swing. Still light, but with harder intentions. Steve bit down on his lip. How had he not found this earlier in life? A few more swings and Steve was smiling wide and arching his back.

"Not hard enough?" Bucky challenged.

"Not even close, Buck. I'm not glass anymore. Remember?" Steve shot back.

Steve's head was yanked back by Bucky's left hand, and that actually hurt quite a bit, making the blond grunt in pain. "Your mouth has always gotten you in trouble. Just answer with yes or no, Steve."

It was exactly what Bucky would say, chastising him in the fondest way possible. "No."

"Then, let's crank up the heat a little, huh?" Bucky let him go and Steve slumped against the beam. The next hit was meant as a message. _Behave_. Steve heard it more as a nag. It just didn't hurt like he wanted. Maybe this wasn't going to work. He was enhanced and this look-a-like was just a man. Fit, for sure, but just a regular guy.

Steve stepped outside the path of the next swing when he heard it coming and turned around. "This isn't working. I'm sorry. It's not you, I swear. I'm just-"

"Turn around," Bucky ordered. "Three extras for talking."

"You don't understand. It's not working."

Bucky leveled Steve with a look. "Did I ask for you opinion? Turn around."

"No."

Bucky reached a hand out slowly, watching Steve as he did. Steve just watched back. Between fight or flight, fight had always been his instinct. He didn't back down; he didn't give in easy. Bucky reached for Steve chained wrists, but Steve ducked away. Bucky took a step towards him and reached again, but again Steve backed up.

The dark-haired man took another step but then used his other foot to catch behind Steve's ankle and reached out with his left hand, catching the harness in his grip when Steve tried to step back. Bucky raised a brow. Steve's eyes lit up. This, he was familiar with. Steve ducked down and around in a wide circle until Bucky's grip broke free. In return, before Steve could straighten up, Bucky planted the same hand on the back of Steve's neck and pressed his thumb into the soft spot at the nape of his neck.

Steve felt his arms go weak just long enough for Bucky to flip him around and push him against the beam again. He shoved up behind him, the paddle digging into the small of his back. "If you want out, word out. Otherwise, bend over. You still have three extras."

"Jesus, Buck." Steve couldn't breath, but not from the tiff. He could feel the welcoming curve of Bucky's front against his back and the firm, almost cold, hand on the back of his neck. Fight or flight weren't his options anymore. Submission was. Steve pushed back against him slowly until Bucky let him fold forward, hands and shoulder back to holding him up, ass out.

"Good. Thank you." Bucky slid the hand holding his neck down Steve's spine until it lifted just before his butt. "I think I underestimated you, Steve. It won't happen again." Steve swallowed hard against that insinuation.

It was less of an insinuation and more of a promise, Steve realized when the paddle came down again. _Jeez, that one actually hurt a bit._ Steve huffed a breath of fire and widened his stance. Bucky chuckled and lifted the paddle again.

Now, they were playing. Steve could feel each hit in the pit of his stomach, like someone had lit a fire in his insides. He had to consciously keep from rocking his hips, the fabric scratching against the tender red that surely started to color under his underwear. "Ten more, Steve."

"Harder?"

"No. And two more for talking."

Steve smiled to himself. Bucky did go a little harder. Just a little bit. Just enough to have Steve gasping on his inhale, and biting down a moan on his exhale. Twelve hits later, and Steve was smiling delirious against the back of his hand. He felt great. Not deep and heavy like he'd read about, but just so content.

"Stand up," Bucky told him, voice a little lower than the last time he'd hear him speak. Steve did, and turned around to look at the man that he'd let spank him. Spank Captain America! Oh, God. The only thing saving Steve from ripping the chains that bound him and running from the room without his pants was that it was Bucky...ish that had done it. That, and the great buzz under his skin that kept him grinning.

"You did well, Steve. I never use that much force on a sub during a scene, but I guess I've never had a sub like you, have I?" Bucky allowed. Steve just bit down on his bottom lip and looked at Bucky with questioning eyes. Was he suppose to talk now? "We're done, Steve. The scene is over. You can speak." The barely audible Russian accent was back.

"Already?" was the first thing that spouted out.

"It's your first time. I'm not locking you up for hours at a time."

Steve swayed forward, towards Bucky, at the suggestion. He'd go for a few more hours with him. "Okay," he said amiably. Bucky smiled softly at him and let Steve fall into his arms.

"You did very well, Stevie. A perfect sub."

 _Stevie_.

Steve burrowed his face into Bucky's neck while Bucky lifted the hand he used to paddle Steve, now empty, to comb through his hair. "Why don't you let me unbuckle you, and we'll sit on the couch for a while." Steve nodded against his skin and backed up. Bucky undid Steve's cuffs from the harness and then loosened the buckles holding it to him. Steve let Bucky lift it off him and then take off the leather cuffs.

"Grab the blanket off the back of the couch. I'll be right back. A few seconds."

"Okay." Steve sat gingerly down on the smooth cushion, wincing at the tenderness. He pulled the blanket off the back and wrapped it around his shoulders. Bucky came back from the closet without the leather pieces and paddle but with a small bottle in his hand. "What's that?"

Bucky held it up as he walked over. "Cooling lotion. Eucalyptus and aloe and other good things."

"Why?"

Bucky's lips tilted up. "Because aftercare is just as important as playing." Steve's brows furrowed as Bucky sat down. "Come on. Over my lap." Steve laughed and only scooted over. Bucky reached a hand up and cradled Steve's cheek in his palm. "Come here, Steve. Let me take care of you."

Steve kissed the rough edge of Bucky's hand before letting the blanket fall off his shoulders and situating on his knees on the couch, crawling over Bucky's lap. He laid down, chest on the cushion and pelvis resting on Bucky's thighs. "Can I just lay here?"

"Of course. You earned it." Bucky smoothed both hands down Steve's sweaty back to the waistband of his boxer briefs. He tucked a couple fingers under the elastic and pulled so there was a small gap between fabric and skin before sliding them down under his, as assumed, very red cheeks. Steve shifted to get comfortable before folding his arms and setting his head down.

Bucky squeezed some lotion onto his hands and placed them both on the cheek closest to him. Steve hissed and tensed for a moment and then released. Bucky hummed in approval. He rubbed gently, lightly, until all the lotion was soaked in. When he moved to the other cheek, Steve felt what he thought he had earlier, but now he was sure.

"Hey, Buck?"

"The scene's over now, Steve. My name is Jimmy."

Steve got up on his elbows. "Like for James?"

Bucky gently led him to lay back down. "No, like for Jimmy. What did you need to say?"

"You don't have to answer, of course, and not like I mind, but...umm, why is one of your hands colder than the other?"

Buck- Jimmy stopped massaging for a moment before starting up again. "It happens to everyone. Sometimes one hand gets colder." Jimmy pulled his underwear back up. "Sit up. I need to get your wrists, too." Steve got back up on his knees and sat down next to Jimmy, who pulled him closer until they were half in each other's laps. Steve let on leg fall over Jimmy's.

"Yeah, it's normal for a few minutes. But it's been the whole time I've been here. I noticed it when you put the cuffs on, when you held me against the beam- great, by the way," Steve noted as he let his head fall to Jimmy's shoulder, "and it hasn't changed."

"You really are a unique one." Jimmy wiped the excess lotion into Steve's forearms and set the bottle beside them on the couch. "No one has ever caught it before."

"I don't mind. You don't have to tell me."

"No, it's okay. It's not a secret. I just hide it for...comfort's sake." Jimmy took off his shirt, momentarily distracting Steve until he saw silver come out from under flesh.

"Oh, my God, are you a cyborg?"

Jimmy rolled his eyes and peeled back the layer of prosthesis to show a metal arm. An entire metal arm. Shoulder to fingertip. "I'm not a cyborg, it's just a project a tech friend of mine let me in on after the accident."

Steve reached out and stopped halfway. "Do you mind?"

"No, go ahead. Doesn't hurt really. Or, well, now I just ignore it."

Steve let the tips of his fingers brush along a few of the intricate metal plates. "I don't want to be intrusive and ask what happened."

Jimmy let his fingers trace over Steve's on his arm. "Thanks."

Steve smirked. "But since I'm being so gracious," Jimmy rolled his eyes, "can I ask a favor?"

"You can ask," Jimmy allowed and watched as Steve's hand trailed down to the fingers of his metal hand.

Steve picked up his hand and place it, palm down, against his chest. "I just want to feel it against my skin."

Jimmy raised a brow. "You are very weird."

Steve laughed despite himself, hand curling in delight around Jimmy's wrist. "You're the cyborg."

"Watch it, or I'll spank you again," Jimmy warned as he pushed Steve back to lay down on the couch.

Steve didn't let the dominant man get far, pulling him down with him by his shirt. "Don't threatened me with a good time, _pal_." Suddenly, they were smiling at each other, breathing into each other's space.

Jimmy placed his right hand on Steve's hip, pinning him down. "Where do you want me to touch you, Steve?" The blond shuddered and let his eyes fall shut. "Uh, uh." Jimmy scratched at Steve's hip. "Words, Stevie."

Steve craned his head back as he whispered, "Everywhere."

"Not good enough. _Where_?"

With a nibble of his lip, Steve finally asked, "Hold my hand?"

Jimmy was taken aback by the innocence of the request. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the middle of Steve's chest, not kissing his skin, but just resting in the moment, as he laced his fingers with Steve's that were just around his metal wrist.

The metal was cool to the touch and had Steve smiling to himself. Jimmy tightened their grip and let his body fall, pressing Steve into the couch as he nibbled at the meat of Steve's pec. The submissive pressed up into his dom, which had Jimmy pushing Steve's hips back down.

The brunet let go of Steve's hand and tickled his fingers down the underside of his customer's arm. He could hear the plates murmuring in response to his elevated heart rate. He let his cold fingers wander across Steve's skin, feeling only the pressure of it, but he could assume the heat of his skin was rising.

"Can you feel me?" Steve wondered, like his thoughts ran perfectly parallel with Jimmy's.

"Only the pressure of it. I can feel my fingers against something."

"Can you feel the goosebumps?"

Jimmy hummed a laugh. "It's very sensitive, so, yeah. I can." He wrapped his hand around the thick part of Steve's bicep and squeezed. "And I can feel how tense you are."

Steve lifted his head and caught Jimmy's eyes. "I can't help it. You're not playing fair."

"I could stop," Jimmy offered and started to retreat. Steve quickly wound a leg around Jimmy's waist and pulled him back.

"Not funny."

"Wasn't being funny," Jimmy growled, an inch from Steve's face.

Steve laid under this man, this virtual stranger and thought, maybe, he never wanted to move. This was the closest he would ever come to having what he had before he lost Bucky. He picked Jimmy's hand up from where it was holding up the stoic man and brought it up to cradle his face. "It's actually scary how much I want to be here. Under you."

Jimmy sighed in resignation as his forehead fell to Steve's. He brushed his thumb across Steve's cheek and slid his other hand up the blond's side. "I need-" He took a breath and sat up, putting space between them. "I need a minute. Do you want some coffee? We can...talk?"

Steve stammered as Jimmy got off the couch, leaving him mostly naked and half hard. "Wh-what?"

"You're thinking with this head," Bucky slid his metal hand along the seam of his zipper, "not with this head." He tapped the first finger of his other hand to his temple. "We're going to talk about this before we go any further. Coffee?"

Steve flopped back on the couch and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Yeah, thanks." Jimmy set to work. Steve mapped the texture of the ceiling with his eyes while he willed himself to settle down.

"You know, I wish I had a picture of Bucky. You'd freak. I mean, you look just like him."

"How so?"

Steve waved an arm around. "Everything! The hair, all dark and soft. His was shorter, though. I don't think he would've liked it like yours is. Blue eyes. Bright like yours. Man, I used to draw them all the time, but I could never get them just right."

"You draw?"

"Used to. There's not much time for it now. Buck, he carved out a corner of our apartment for my art stuff. He even made me an easel out of scrap wood from the shipping yard he worked at." Steve could feel his face stretching into a smile. "He bought me brushes once for my birthday. Used the money he was supposed to buy milk with, but got me freaking brushes. He hid them from me until my birthday. Same spot he used to hide his emergency cash." Steve remembered the not-so-secret hiding place fondly. He tucked his fingers under the cushion of the couch and they hit something that crinkled. Steve turned over and lifted the corner of the cushion to find a plastic zip bag of something wrapped in butcher paper.

Just like Bucky used to....

"Did you ever draw anything besides Bucky's sparkling eyes?" Jimmy teased, still in the kitchen.

Steve's brow crinkled. It wasn't possible. It had been almost a century since he'd seen Bucky. Even if he was alive, he'd be over a hundred years old. "Yeah, I used to," Steve swallowed hard, "draw him when I couldn't sleep." Steve let the cushion bounce back to its place and rubbed a hand over his face. He was going crazy. "He always slept on his stomach. I pretty much memorized his back. I always drew him without the scar, though. He hated it. I thought it was cool. Like a lightning bolt right across the middle of his spine."

Jimmy came back to the couch and set the two mugs of coffee on the table. Steve sat up.

"He sounds like a cool guy."

"He was," Steve allowed.

"Cream? Sugar?"

"Just sugar. Thanks."

Bucky turned back to the kitchen. Steve picked up his coffee to get one good gulp down, bitter, like it used to be before he could afford sugar. He glanced up at Jimmy, cup at his lips, and his jaw dropped. Coffee spilled over the edge and onto his lap, but he didn't even feel it. Right across the middle of Jimmy's back was a raised, jagged line. A scar.

"Bucky."

Steve felt his fingers let go, but he didn't realize the mug was falling until it hit the floor with a sharp crack like a flash of lightning across the sky.

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENTS AND KUDOS PRETTY PLEASE! MWAH!! Xoxo - jess


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